


Spin Cycle

by Tawryn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, almost a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawryn/pseuds/Tawryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aw, washer, <i>no</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a panic after realizing that I wasn't going to get my other story done for Clint/Coulson Lives, so this is unbetaed and rushed. Honestly, I really just wanted to see how many Bill Murray themed coffeeshop names I could come up with.

 

“Aw, washer, _no_.”

Clint looks into the tub in despair. His laundry is floating happily, drifting in slow circles. He should’ve figured that any washing machine that made _that_ much noise was bound to have something not good going on, but well, he was hoping. Clint sighs, opens a dryer behind him, and begins the arduous task of hand wringing each article of clothing before tossing it in. Fuck if he’s unloading another three dollars in quarters into a new machine.

The bell on the door chimes but Clint doesn’t look up until he hears, “Alright, that looks bad.”

It’s the guy from the coffeehouse on the corner. The hot guy, the… shit, he’s so bad with names.

“Yup. Stay away from number six,” Clint says, squeezing the water out of his favorite shirt. Which is purple. Because purple is an awesome color. Kings wear purple, you know.

“Noted,” the guy says, and Clint really wishes he could remember his name. He’s wearing hipster glasses and a button up with the top two undone, looking utterly delicious.

“Hey, you work at that place on the corner, right? Uh... Roastyshack?”

“Yeah.” Coffee Guy piles his laundry into the machine two down from Clint. “Lost in Caffeination.”

“Right, that’s it. Knew it was something like that.”

He smiles at Clint. “The owner’s got a thing for Bill Murray.”

“I gathered that,” Clint laughs. “So, I’m gonna sound like a dick, but I don’t remember your name.”

Coffee Guy’s lips quirk and he lifts an eyebrow. “Just another cog in the java machine to you, Clint?”

Clint’s stomach flutters. “Well, now I definitely feel like a dick,” he says, because shit, Coffee Guy _remembers_ him.

“Don’t sweat it. Barista memory,” he says, shutting the washer and feeding his coins in. He turns and nods to Clint’s machine. “Want some help with that?”

Oh, right. He’s supposed to be wringing his laundry ‘ye olden days’ style. To be fair, Coffee Guy is more than a little distracting. “Sure.”

The water sloshes around their hands as they fish out more of Clint’s sopping clothes. His knuckles brush up against Coffee Guy’s and he shoots Clint a dangerous smile, fuck, so dangerous, because there are _promises_ in that smile. Clint pulls out a pair of pants and twists them over the basin, keeping his face down to hide the blush he feels crawling up his cheeks.

“So, barista memory, huh?”

“Finest in the tri-state area,” he tells him.

Clint grins and tosses his pants in the dryer. “Big ego there. Think I’m gonna have to test that. What’s my poison?”

“Light and sweet drip with legs. Though sometimes you go for iced, and when you’re craving it, a mocha frap.”

“Whoa, you _are_ good,” Clint says, awed.

“No point bragging when you can’t deliver,” Coffee Guy says with a wink, because he’s not playing fair.

“Does that memory extend to anything else?”

“It has its uses.” Coffee Guy gives him another knowing grin and that’s it, Clint’s gone.

They finish wringing the clothes and Clint slides his quarters into the machine, praying that he has better luck with the dryer.

“So, listen,” Clint says, sliding his thumbs into his pockets. He takes a deep breath. “I have to go meet a friend for lunch, but do you think I could get your number? I’d like to take you out for coffee sometime—or no, you probably don’t want to do that, but uh. Dinner?”

Coffee Guy laughs softly and nods, pulling out a pen and scribbling on the back of a receipt. “Here. Dinner sounds great.”

Clint knows he's gotta be wearing the stupidest grin right now, but can't find it in himself to care. He takes the number, brushing his thumb over Coffee Guy’s wrist as he goes.

“See you later, Clint.”

“Yeah, see you—” Clint looks down at the receipt and it clicks, _yes_ , that’s it.

“See you later, Phil.”


End file.
